A World Worth Noticing: Dr Roz Savage MBE MP's episode

By Sandy Glanfield

Imagine being alone in a tiny rowing boat in the middle of the ocean. Nothing but water stretching to the horizon, a night sky bursting with stars, and the sun slowly rising over an endless expanse of blue. No emails, no traffic, no one asking what's for dinner. Just you, the ocean and an extraordinary amount of time to think. And perhaps, despite being completely alone, an overwhelming sense of belonging to something much bigger than yourself.

In this week's Let's Reboot the Future podcast, Dr Roz Savage MBE MP describes how she invites primary school children to imagine themselves alongside her in that boat. I found myself doing exactly that. I couldn't help wondering what it must be like to spend so much time immersed in nature, with little choice but to pay attention to it.

What might we notice? And what might we learn?

It's a question that has been bubbling away since our Reboot Forum beside the River Arun, where we explored what we might learn from the living systems of a river.

In one of the reflections following the Forum, Lucy Hagger from Good Eye shared something she intended to do differently: simply notice her river.

I love the simplicity of that.

Not set out to change it, fix it or even understand everything about it, although all those things matter enormously. Just give it her attention.

How often do we walk past the natural world without really seeing it? The river flowing beneath a bridge, the changing light on the trees, the wildlife quietly getting on with its day. So much of what sustains us, and all the other life around us, barely registers as we hurry from one thing to the next.

And yet, perhaps nature has rather a lot to teach us, if only we'd give it the time.

Roz talks about the power of accumulating tiny actions. It took her five million oar strokes to cross three oceans, one after another, sometimes making almost imperceptible progress. Her story is an extraordinary lesson in persistence, but it also makes me wonder about the cumulative power of paying attention.

What if we made a little time each day to notice? To observe the changing seasons, the movement of water, the relationships between living things. Perhaps we'd begin to see patterns, connections and dependencies that had previously escaped us. Perhaps we'd become more curious, more appreciative, and a little more thoughtful about the choices we make.

Because it's difficult to care for something we barely notice.

Perhaps the more we notice, the more we come to appreciate how connected we are to the world around us. And with that understanding comes a little more care in how we treat it.

Five million oar strokes feels a bit ambitious. But a few moments of noticing each day? That feels like somewhere we could all begin.